


Down to the Wire

by waterfallliam



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BAMF Rodney McKay, Bombs, Canon-Typical Violence, Frottage, Genii (Stargate), John Sheppard Whump, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:43:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26993869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterfallliam/pseuds/waterfallliam
Summary: “Who did this to you?”Sheppard tries to speak. Spits blood.“John, who did this?”When head scientist Doctor John Sheppard is in danger, there isn't much Major M Rodney McKay won't do to save him.
Relationships: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Comments: 10
Kudos: 63





	Down to the Wire

“Dial the DHD,” Rodney snaps, years of military training ensuring his voice is stern and authoritative.

When the science team had missed their first check in, Elizabeth had sent Bates and his team in after them. It was only when they and the majority of the first team had been sent back through the Gate, drugged to their gills and incoherent, that Rodney had been woken and told about it. For the first few minutes it was just another day on the job, grumbling under his breath about the unknown horrors lurking around every corner in the Pegasus galaxy.

He hadn’t asked for the American colonel to die and leave him, one of the few members of the Canadian Armed Forces who were part of the expedition, in charge of their armed forces. It was a joint military and civilian venture. His original position had been meant to appease politicians and set an example for a more international approach from the IOA. He had been, at best, supposed to be an outstanding pilot who rarely got to fly, and at worst a glorified pen pusher. While he now gets to be more involved with missions and scientific work, part of him wishes more than anything he could go back in time and change everything.

Then, eyes closed as muscle memory had pulled on his tac vest, he’d remembered: Sheppard had requested he go with doctors Zelenka, Kusanagi and Schlicht on the science mission to examine some anomalous energy readings. They hadn’t indicated a ZPM, so after another team had cleared the area by the Gate—the planet was supposed to be uninhabited—they’d gone in with a few marines, standard procedure.

“Dialing, sir!” Chuck obliges, already pressing the buttons.

Sheppard hadn’t been with the personnel who’d returned. In fact, he’s the only one who isn't accounted for.

Has he been kidnapped for his gene again? Rodney curses under his breath. Sheppard is like catnip to too many alien civilisations they’ve encountered.

A tornado of worst case scenarios spins through Rodney’s mind. He tries to let them pass over him, filing them away for later, just like his old CO had taken the time to teach him. Stay present, stay alert. Whatever he fears, hasn’t happened to him yet. Keeping a cool head is how he stays ready to stop it.

“Major, get him back.” Elizabeth looks down from the balcony, face set in hard lines. Dr Sheppard isn’t only one of the head scientists of the expedition, he’s also a personal friend of Elizabeth’s.

“We will, Doctor.” He snaps a salute. She hates salutes, but he’s nervous and it keeps him from fondling his P-90 too much.

The Gate swims into being. Rodney signals Teyla and Ronon to fall in behind him. Teyla he’d met on their very first mission, Ronon in a later confrontation with the Wraith. He trusts them with his back and his future. They’re just as determined to get Sheppard back as he is. He’d wanted Ford for the rescue mission, too, but he’s on mainland Jumper duty, too far away from the city to make it back in time.

“Let’s get him back,” Rodney says, raising his weapon. Teyla’s answering fierce nod and Ronon’s ready-for-battle grin is all the reassurance he needs. The shimmer shine of blue is cold for a brief second and then they’re stepping into mild climate and green grass. The Ancients really did know how to pick unnervingly similar planets.

Once, Rodney had dreamed of nothing more than stepping into the unknown. He refuses to think of his past self as naive, since space exploration is still one of the most interesting and most daring human endeavours, but a year in Atlantis has changed him. This is different from the kind of top secret missions he’d been part of on Earth, scooped up and shipped out with strangers wherever his piloting skills had been needed most. He has a team now. People he cares about and can’t bear to lose. The technology they face is alien, but not an unsolvable mystery. Their weapons are a match for the Wraith up to a point—and they work just fine against fellow humans.

“This way,” Teyla says, indicating ridges in the mud. Tracks leading into the forest. Ronon nods and Rodney falls in, taking point.

They make fast progress.

“They have not tried to hide their tracks,” Teyla observes.

“A trap?” Ronon asks.

Rodney doesn’t need to clarify that they’re going anyway. “Probably. Teyla, drop back in case.”

She nods. Usually it’s her and Sheppard, providing cover from the sidelines. Teyla rarely misses a shot, and Sheppard, well—he’s not that great with guns but one time he had managed to rig a truck of fertiliser to blow up quite spectacularly.

Rodney wills himself to focus. A cold breeze winds its way through the trees and across his bare arms. In all his haste he’d forgotten his jacket, but the observation is a passing thought and he keeps going. Sheppard being in danger makes a part of his brain spit and shout, and he tries his best to keep his panic tightly clamped down, using it to fuel the steady thump of his boots across the forest floor.

They keep going for a couple of minutes, the tracks clear and deep. They indicate a struggle, then the imprints get deeper.

“He tried to fight back,” Rodney observes.

Ronon nods. “He’s getting stronger.”

Sheppard’s been learning how to fight, but he’d been taken by at least three others—a team. “Probably military, well trained.” Rodney adds, grateful that he doesn’t need to explain his leaps of logic to Ronon as they continue.

It’s not long until they reach a clearing. In the centre, a figure dressed in familiar Atlantis grey and blue is hunched over, his badly behaved hair recognisable anywhere.

“Sheppard,” Rodney calls out. They don’t have the element of surprise anyway, and it’s worth it to see how Sheppard raises his head a little. He's alive, beautifully alive.

He and Ronon clear the tree line as best they can, but there’s plenty of places to hide. It’s open and vulnerable, just like the expression on Sheppard’s face. They’re by his side in seconds. Up close, Rodney can see blood.

“Knew you’d come,” Sheppard slurs, mouth quirking up in a pained half smile.

His hand is steady as he cups Sheppard’s cheek, raising his face so Rodney can take in the extent of the damage. Inside, Rodney shakes. The cuts look shallow and need of treatment, but the one above his eyebrow has bled profusely, lines of red clinging to his face.

Sheppard’s eyes focus on his and Rodney lets out a sigh of relief he didn’t realise he’d been holding. They’re bloodshot and little puffy, like he’s been crying, but he can focus. His pupils aren’t dilated. That’s good.

Rodney’s hackles are raised, his sixth sense for danger ringing out five by five, but he needs to check that Sheppard’s well enough to be moved. “We need to get you out of here.”

Sheppard nods, swaying into Rodney’s touch, stubble rough against Rodney’s palm.

“Hey, hey. Stay with me.”

“McKay, can he move?” Ronon reminds.

Rodney wants to protest and say that he’s not a qualified field medic. But he has done this before, staggering out of the plane he’d been flying before they got shot down and searching for survivors. He’s had the same first aid training as every other cadet.

“Follow my fingers,” Rodney instructs, holding up two in front of Sheppard’s eyes.

Sheppard tracks his movements, shakes his head that no he’s not dizzy, or about to vomit, suffering from a headache or chest pain—”Well, not more than to be expected after having the crap beat out of me.”

Rodney imagines the bruises under Sheppard’s uniform and clenches his jaw. “We can move him.”

Ronon crouches down so he can take one of Sheppard’s arms.

“No!” Sheppard cries, fingers fumbling around the zip of his jacket. A couple of them look swollen, and Rodney bites his lip to stop himself from demanding how many injuries are hidden underneath Sheppard’s uniform. Gently catching Sheppard’s fingers in his own and unzipping his jacket feels as natural as breathing.

Rodney’s stomach drops. Under Sheppard’s jacket sits a very shoddy looking bomb vest. There’s no timer visible amid a tangle of wires, but looking at the tall grass surrounding Sheppard he spots a wire trailing away and into the tree line.

Rodney bites his lip. Gently he lowers Sheppard’s hand back into his lap, letting them go.

“Who did this to you?”

Sheppard tries to speak. Spits blood.

“John, who did this?”

“Kolya.”

Ice cascades down Rodney’s spine.

It’s not that they hadn’t been prepared for the Genii to retaliate after Koyla’s failed attempt to take Atlantis four months ago. Rodney is more than smart enough to recognise a blooming personal vendetta. What he hadn’t foreseen was that Koyla would go rogue and focus on Sheppard instead of him.

He smooths Sheppard’s hair off his forehead. Where Sheppard’s hand finds his, he clasps, securing the tentative grip. “I wish I’d killed him.”

“Right about now I’m wishing that, too.” Sheppard musters one of his crooked half grins, the one usually reserved for when Rodney saves a helping of fries for him when he’s stuck late at the labs.

“Who’s Kolya?” Ronon asks, squeezing Sheppard’s shoulder briefly before returning to scanning the treeline.

“No good bastard who tried to take Atlantis,” Rodney huffs.

The explosives bunched around Sheppard’s middle don’t look like any of the C4 the Genii had managed to steal, but the wiring is done well, just chaotically. Cutting the wire that leads into the trees would be the safest option to diffuse it, but Koyla is undoubtedly watching them at this very moment, finger on the trigger.

“McKay outsmarted him,” Sheppard grunts. Rodney thinks he hears admiration in his voice.

“And you fought back,” Rodney murmurs, pride and anger burning together in his chest. The scar on Sheppard’s side is almost healed. Sheppard was the one who had saved them all, not Rodney.

There’s a sudden buzz of static. Rodney fishes a walkie out of one of the pockets of Sheppard’s jacket.

“Major McKay, how nice of you to join the good doctor.”

“How unpleasant to see you again, Koyla.”

A chuckle. “It wouldn’t have to come to this, but Dr Sheppard is still very stubborn, even after our last encounter.”

Rodney’s grip on his gun tightens. He needs to not rise to the bait. “What do you want?”

“The same things as last time, but we’ll settle for more C4 and a ship.”

“I’ll have to ask Dr Weir.”

He shares a glance with Ronon. This could be their chance to call for backup, but there’s no way Kolya is expecting them not to.

“Of course. You do that,” Kolya condescends and the connections clicks off.

“He wanted me to build him a weapon. A nuclear,” Sheppard coughs. Wheezes. “Bomb. I wouldn’t—”

“I know,” Rodney says, words barely more than a whisper.

Ronon waves his hand and Rodney tears his eyes away from Sheppard to watch the series of signals. Teyla’s aware of the situation. She’s scoping out the forest for Koyla. He taps the radio in his ear. “Atlantis, come in.”

“Grodin here. What have you found, Major?”

“We have a situation. Put Dr Weir on.”

“One moment.”

“Major McKay, what’s the situation?” Elizabeth sounds calm, but he can hear the undercurrent of tension. It’s the same itch he gets, needing to do something about problem rather than staying stuck in the backseat. She’d much better at tempering the urge than he is.

Rodney sighs. “We found him. He’s been taken hostage by the Genii."

"Kolya?"

Rodney clenches his fist. He hopes Elizabeth remembers the briefs they'd gone over after they'd almost lost the city. "Yeah. We're in a bit of a pickle." Code asking for support, while telling her that they can all move, which makes extraction that much easier. If things were worse, they'd chosen 'hassle'. And if things were ever hopeless, Rodney can admit that 'sea of trouble' is a sentimental choice.

They’d lost the city when the Genii had come to take it. And then the Genii had almost lost it, too. Despite his injury, Sheppard had fixed the last station and activated the shield. Outside it, Rodney had clung on to the railing, letting one last shot off at Koyla before he ran back to the Gate. Rodney had held on for hours in the storm until he’d slipped. He almost hadn’t made it, treading water until they could lower the shield and retrieve him.

"I understand. What are they asking for?" _What do you need?_

"The usual." Extraction by Jumper if possible. "C4 and a Jumper"

"We can do that.” Rodney only met Elizabeth in the early stages of planning the Atlantis expedition, but she'd cut through bureaucratic and military bullshit alike. "We’ll send a Jumper in ten minutes."

She signs off. He picks up the walkie.

"Ten minutes, Kolya. Then you'll have what you want and you can let him go."

"Of course," Kolya replies, amused.

Ronon nudges his him, eyebrows spelling out a warning. Rodney nods. It can't be that easy. Kolya has something up his sleeve, another hand to play that he's sure will lever him an even bigger advantage.

A hand tugs at Rodney’s tac vest. Using the cover of how closely their bodies are hunched together, Sheppard is slowly rooting through the pockets.

Rodney tries to move his lips as little as possible as he asks, "What are you looking for?"

"Multi-tool." Sheppard’s words are more rasp than voice.

Pretending to reposition his P-90, Rodney subtly indicates the right pocket with his pinky finger.

He catches Sheppard's thankful smile and has to supress how his own lips twitch in reply.

"I think," Sheppard pants, every so slowly easing his forefinger through the velcro, "the wire may be a dupe."

"Remote controlled," Rodney agrees.

"That's enough," Kolya says, coming into view where the clearing ends and the trees begin.

Ronon tenses beside him, not raising his weapon but tapping Rodney and nodding towards where Teyla has a kill shot lined up. Rodney shakes his head. If the detonator is remote, it could be a dead man's switch, or Kolya's soldiers could be under orders to blow them up if they harm their leader. As long as the explosives are attached to Sheppard, they're in danger.

For now, the best thing to do is to wait for back up.

"Step away from Doctor Sheppard." Kolya raises the dummy detonator like it's a tankard.

Reluctantly, Rodney steps back. Sheppard managed to retrieve his pocketknife. His fingers tremble as he pulls out the blade.

"Such concern you have for your scientist."

"Unlike you, we don't think people are disposable," Rodney fumes, focusing on Kolya. He trusts Sheppard not to blow them up.

"Every one of our people is a volunteer. Just like you volunteered to come to our galaxy. John's not a soldier, but he has the heart of one.”

Rodney suppresses a violent shudder at how Kolya uses Sheppard's first name. It's designed to rile him up, too get to him—everything about this is. But if that was his goal, it would have made more sense to take Rodney himself in the first place. Unless that's his plan all along.

He risks a glance at Sheppard.

Rodney knows he has many weaknesses. Not functioning without coffee in the morning. How easily irritable he is. Judging others fast and harshly; that he is callous and unappreciative of those around him. But he refuses to believe that how deeply he cares is one of them. He’s been passed over for promotions because of his ‘inability to see the bigger picture’, which is just military doublespeak for refusing to sacrifice lives as strategy.

It’s what makes his trigger finger twitch in a perennial confirmation of how he loves his team. Because that’s what it he feels, for all of them, and for Sheppard. Rodney has never fallen in love so effortlessly, but like everything else, Sheppard makes it so easy.

Kolya continues. “He stood up to me. Tried to hide your plan to save the city. You almost didn’t save him. Can you, this time?”

Rodney tries to take his cue from Sheppard, who's ignoring Kolya in favour of detangling the wires. He fails.

"We’re trying to help you. You can’t possibly win the fight against the Wraith on your own.”

“We didn’t ask for your help.”

“The Ancients are just as much our ancestors as they are yours.”

“But you won’t share.” There’s a self triumphant smirk in Kolya’s voice.

“You wouldn’t either.” Still, Rodney considers his words.

The Athosians are always welcome. They had wanted to leave to rebuild on a planet. The silver lining of it all was that with a new gate address the Wraith would no longer target them as frequently as before and they had hope of rebuilding their cultural legacy.

Elizabeth has promised Ronon sanctuary for any Satedans who they encountered. The entire West wing is often full of refugees, waiting for resettlement. Many stay, joining Atlantis’ mission against the Wraith, but the truth is that life in the city is often precarious and volatile. If Rodney were another man he knew he wouldn’t like it either.

But is it enough? 

The radio in Rodney’s ear crackles. “Major, we’re sending the goods now. Thirty seconds.”

“Thirty seconds, understood.” 

Rodney tells Koyla, then beckons Ronon closer and signals the time frame to Teyla. As soon as the Jumper decloaks they’ll run for cover.

The air around them prickles in a soda fizz against Rodney’s arms.

“This is Lieutenant Ford, drop your weapons.” The Jumper shimmers into view.

“You wouldn’t let the good doctor come to harm, would you?”

A shot rings out across the clearing—Teyla—and Rodney hears a muffled curse through the radio.

They shoot the Genii soldiers they can see, Ronon taking one out with his pistol and him and Teyla hitting both the kneecaps of the other. Rodney helps Sheppard up, stumbling as he sags against him, but he finds his footing and moves them away from the fighting.

Teyla and Ronon find cover and keep shooting as more Genii soldiers spill from amongst the trees. Ford tries to block lines of sight with the Jumper. Luckily, he’s not shooting. Who knows if Koyla has hidden more explosives anywhere else. Bullets are easier to be precise with.

“Shepard,” Rodney urges, finally bringing Sheppard behind the treeline.

Sheppard all but falls on his ass, hand clenched around Rodney’s knife. “Almost there…”

Rodney fires off a few shots, but Teyla and Ronon are managing just fine on their own. Ford is basically using the Jumper as a battering ram at this point, brazenly herding the still standing Genii soldiers back into the forest.

It’s almost over, Rodney thinks, close to tasting relief.

“There’s no getting away.” Koyla intercepts them, suddenly appearing and pointing a gun at Sheppard’s exposed chest.

It had been going too well, Rodney supposes.

The detonator is nowhere to be seen, but a poorly aimed shot is enough to kill.

“You kill him, you kill yourself,” Rodney points out. Kolya is close enough that Rodney can kill him more than twenty times over in as many seconds.

“There’s a hidden timer. Come with me, and he lives.”

“He’s right,” Sheppard groans. “I just found it.”

Kolya takes a step back, taunting smile on his face. Rodney exhales, his blood pounding in his ears.

A shot rings out.

Sheppard lets out a strangled noise.

Rodney clicks his now empty mag out, lets it fall, reloads.

Koyla darts into the trees, clutching at his chest. Rodney knows he’s hit. He wants to go after him, put a bullet between his eyes to make sure the threat is well and properly eliminated. If he’ll try something like this, who’s to say what he’ll try next time.

He remembers Elizabeth’s order. Technically it’s his jurisdiction. It's his authority that matters if he decides to hunt down Kolya while Ronon, Teyla and Ford make sure Sheppard gets to safety. But Sheppard’s hand is suddenly clenched around his, his eyes narrowed in pain, but looking at Rodney with an emotion he can’t name swimming on his face.

Kneeling down, Rodney retrieves his knife and clears his mind. Sheppard has narrowed it down to two wires, which Rodney leans forward to take from his shaking fingers.

“Which one, Sheppard?”

“I—I’m not sure.”

Rodney swallows. In moments like this, there’s only one option. “Go with your gut.”

“The yellow one.”

Rodney does, and the world doesn’t end. John blinks back at him, expression mirroring the surprise and relief Rodney feels.

They don’t speak as Rodney methodically removed the bulk of the explosives with his knife. As soon as he’s carefully placed them aside, he helps Sheppard stand, and supports him all the way to where Ford, Teyla and Ronon are casually picking off the last remaining Genii.

Sheppard’s hand is dry against his, surprisingly rough. Ronon helps him, and Teyla covers them as Ford scrambles to the front of the Jumper, updating Elizabeth. The Gate is open and waiting for them.

The grip around his hand tightens as they fall onto the bench in the jumper, Sheppard wedged between him and Teyla. The journey is short, but Sheppard doesn’t let go of his hand. Teyla takes his other, and Ronon presses his feet up against Sheppard’s from where he's sat on the opposite bench.

They don’t stop touching until they’re in the Gate room and Sheppard is whisked away by Doctor Carson.

When Rodney sees him next he’s on an IV drip, propped up against some pillows and huddled under an extra blanket. Teyla, Ronon and Ford are settled in around him, talking softly. Sheppard lets them touch him. Reassures them he’s okay. Ford jokes about something or other. Rodney smiles.

Fresh from a debriefing and extra military meeting about Kolya, he’s in no rush to do more talking, even as five different greetings vie to escape between his lips. He joins them, leaning against an empty bed and crossing his arms, letting himself bask in good company. Sheppard giggles at a particularly dirty joke Ronon tells, loopy from the pain medication Carson has him on, cheeks flushed and happy. Then Teyla tells one of his favourite stories about the pranks she pulled in her misspent youth, Ford's jaw dropping in disbelief, and something inside him settles. 

Eventually everyone but him leaves, shooed away by a nurse, and Rodney sits in the chair beside Sheppard’s bed. As a cadet he’d got into trouble for talking too much, questions and backtalk spilling from him until the laps and push ups wrung all his words from his body before he had the chance to speak them. They quiver there now, nerves and worry, vibrations of truth that he wades through, picking the words he wants to use most as he reaches shore.

“I’m glad we didn’t lose you today.”

Sheppard cracks one eye open. “I’m glad we didn’t lose me, too.”

“How long are you in for?”

“Carson says I mostly just need rest after this.” He motions to IV with his head. Fluids to recoup the blood loss, however minimal, and combat any possible dehydration.

“Just how good are the painkillers he gave you?” Rodney guesses he must be badly bruised at the very least.

“I was a bit out of it for a while, now I’m less floaty.”

“Floaty enough that can finally make you understand the good things about 2001?”

“But there are no good things about that movie! It’s killer AI propaganda.” Sheppard whines.

Sheppard can’t hold his DS, but he’s content to watch as Rodney makes very slow progress through the levels of a dungeon trawling game. Sheppard doesn’t mind that he isn’t much good, and Rodney lays his perplexed commentary at the weird running mushrooms and random spiky worms on thick just to hear Sheppard’s wheezy laugh. Carson comes round just as Sheppard is snorting into Rodney’s shoulder at a comment about how if the hero is Italian maybe there should at least be the option to replenish his health with some food. Honestly, this really doesn’t much resemble the kind of D&D he’d played in high school.

“Gentleman. I see you’re feeling better Doctor.”

Rodney snaps the DS shut and edges away automatically. Sheppard’s head against his shoulder stops him moving too far, tufts of his hair just shy of tickling his neck.

“All done, Doc. Any chance I can continue to heal in my own quarters?” Sheppard blinks at him, feigning innocence.

Carson shakes his head fondly. “Major, if I leave him in your care can I trust he won’t get lost on his way and find himself in the labs?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of him.”

Carson removes the IV gently, taping his arm after. Rodney retrieves Sheppard’s boots from under the bed for him. His bloody uniform has no doubt joined the other ruined ones to be washed and scavenged for reusable panels. Their supply of Earth made uniforms is finite, just like all the resources they’d brought with them. One day they’d have little choice but to rely on the same natural resources as everyone else in the Pegasus galaxy does.

Sheppard hesitates before leaving, tugging at the hem of his bright red scrubs. “I think these are more Elizabeth’s colour.”

Rodney snorts.

The first time Sheppard had come with them on away mission he’d thrown up twice and hadn’t stopped shaking for ten minutes after they’d returned through the Gate. He’d been determined to see it through, stronger than Rodney had expected. Sheppard is willowy and quiet, but personable, too. Maybe Rodney had been around military types for too long, because he hadn’t initially thought him to be kind of person hiding a surprising amount of strength under baggy science blues.

Everyone’s first corpse is hard, let alone an entire village. The worst part had been that they hadn’t just been killed by the Wraith. It was how they’d tried to save each other first, too.

When they reach Sheppard’s quarters he turns his back as Sheppard changes. They’ve been naked around each other before in the locker room and the large, communal showers of Atlantis. But this is Sheppard’s space, which makes it different.

“Rodney, a little help?”

Sheppard is stuck with his pants halfway down his legs, not quite able to toe his second boot off. His expression is strained, his jaw clenching as he bites down his pain. Even after his first fire fight, Sheppard hadn’t wanted to talk about.

“Oh. Of course.”

Rodney kneels automatically, gripping the soft leather behind Sheppard’s heel and tugging. “I’ll take care of this, you just try and stay in a comfortable position.”

“Thanks.”

Sheppard doesn’t look at him as he peels the scrubs off the rest of the way.

He has to stand up again to get to Sheppard’s clothes. The drawers integrated into the design of the wall had seemed so remarkable at first, the constants of human invention and reinvention across time and space. But now he’s roughly tugging them open one by one, wonder long faded, until he finds what he’s looking for.

Sheppard looks up at the ceiling as Rodney approaches. He crouches to get his boxers and threadbare MIT joggers on and up to his knees, then stands so Sheppard can hold onto his shoulders as Rodney carefully pulls them up the rest of the way. Sheppard readjusts himself as Rodney find him a shirt.

“Can you get the one with the wolf?”

Sheppard has a surprising number of animal shirts, he finds a panda and a shark before retrieving a dark blue shirt with a faded print of a wolf’s face.

“This is going to hurt, but you need to lift your arms over your head.”

Sheppard nods and does as he’s asked. Only after Rodney’s dropped the red shirt on the floor with the pants does he sees the full extent of damage Kolya’s caused. He sucks in a breath. Mottled bruises have formed across most of his right side, no longer tender and red but steadily sinking into a darker, aching blue-purple.

“We… Carson iced it, for a while. But there’s only so much…”

“Cream?” Rodney’s voice croaks and crumbles in his throat. He wishes he’d gone after Kolya. A bullet between the eyes would have been fast and sure, but part of him wants to use the knife, hurt him first. He pushes the urge away. It won’t help, not now.

“Desk drawer.”

Rodney finds it. A crescent moon of cream has already been used, probably from the mission a couple of weeks ago where they’d had to fight off the locals who wanted to kidnap them as Wraith bait. They’d given up their guns to get close to the source of energy emissions and then things had got ugly.

“I can do it later,” Sheppard insists as Rodney sits down beside him, already dabbing cream onto his fingers. He makes two ugly indents where Sheppard’s had been clean and sparing.

“You can reach your own back? With your movement already impaired?”

Rodney waits for Sheppard to nod and gesture him closer, and begins the task of covering every offending mark. For every cruel way Kolya had touched him, Rodney makes sure to be gentle. For every hurt, he wants to heal. It’s his job to protect Sheppard. He doesn’t know when this became important to him, too.

Rodney works methodically, making sure not to miss a spot, just the same as when he cleans his trusty M9. But John isn’t a weapon. His skin is hot, the hair on his chest wiry and soft. Everywhere Rodney spreads the cream he claims John back, alive and breathing beneath his touch.

He’s halfway done when Sheppard relaxes into him. The change is minute, but Rodney can feel traces of tension drain underneath his fingertips. AR-1 will be off Gate duty for a fortnight, which Sheppard will undoubtedly complain about until he gets absorbed in a project in the labs, but Rodney feels it’s plenty prudent considering how much Sheppard has to heal.

As he’s finishing Rodney bites the bullet and asks, “How are you doing?”

Sheppard frowns, ready to withdraw, but there’s one bruise left by his ribs. He stays, relaxed but silent as Rodney finishes his self imposed task.

“You don’t have to tell me, just… just think about it. This’ll take a few minutes to dry.”

Sheppard nods, nose scrunching up before he schools his expression. “Thanks McKay,”

Rodney puts the pot back, suddenly unsure of himself.

He shouldn’t have intruded, Sheppard is a very private guy, after all. He joins his science team for ping pong tournaments or impromptu games of volleyball, but he’s never with the Mensa club and prefers to spend his nights alone in the lab—except the times Rodney comes to drag him away, but ends up joining him there instead.

On those nights there’s always a friendly understanding that Rodney has never really felt before. He’s always been too clever for his own good, or not quite manly and violent enough for the other soldiers in boot camp. He sits the wrong way or freaks out too easily, even when he’s clocked the highest kill rate in a training exercise. But with Sheppard it’s easy. He can be too loud or too much and Sheppard will just fondly roll his eyes and ask him his opinion on another problem.

Now he’s stepped over an invisible line. His palms burn with it. “I should go.”

If he ignores it, and Sheppard ignores it, then they can go back to before. No awkward looks or silences, just them, the team, and Rodney can continue to make sure they’re all safe.

“Stay,” Sheppard says as he reaches the door.

Turning around he sees Sheppard staring back at him. He’s barely moved a muscle. He looks so vulnerable just then.

Wordlessly, Rodney goes to sit beside him.

Sheppard hands him his shirt and Rodney helps him tug it on. When Sheppard leans against his chest, he hesitates, then raises his arms to gently wrap around Sheppard. Rodney’s not big on hugs, but from how Sheppard snuffles against him, he might just be a cuddler.

“It’s not that I almost died,” Sheppard says, so quiet Rodney would miss it if the words weren’t spoken into his neck. “I was afraid I’d break.”

“Everybody has a breaking point,” Rodney says, trying to soothe. The words don’t come out quite right.

“I know. It’s not that I’m ashamed—” John huffs. “The destruction I would be the cause of…”

“I understand.” And he does. He really, really does. Out of everyone alive, he’s the one who pulled the trigger and woke the Wraith.

“I can still feel it. The wires worming their way inside me and never leaving.”

Unsure of himself, Rodney moves one of his hands to come and rest over Sheppard’s stomach. He’d not have guessed Sheppard is so tactile, but it makes a certain kind of sense. All the ways he shifts just out of the way of reach, easy smile and diverting remark making sure no one notices him doing it.

Sheppard squeezes him a little, which Rodney interprets as thanks.

He thinks about how Sheppard touches him sometimes. He doesn’t even do that with Zelenka, and they’re full on nerd buddies who regularly communicate in nothing but Star Trek references Rodney pretends not to understand. (Okay, he doesn’t recognise them all and doesn’t want to be caught out.)

They stay like that for a while, Rodney keeping his hand on Sheppard’s stomach as he repositions a pillow so he can lean back against it, then his arm is securely around Sheppard again.

“What’s this for?” Sheppard asks, wriggling so he can run a fingertip over the anchor on he inside of Rodney’s forearm. “I know it’s military but you’re not…”

“Honourary member,” Rodney answers, feeling his lips move against the untamed spikes of Sheppard’s hair. “Navy men can be very persuasive on leave. Frisky, too.”

That startles a laugh out of Sheppard. “Did you always want to be a soldier?”

“No.”

Sheppard gives him an an enquiring poke.

Rodney sighs. “When I was eleven, I built a bomb as a science project.”

Sheppard freezes against him, but relaxes against as Rodney rubs his thumb in a soothing circle.

“It wasn’t functional, of course. Stupid is something I’ve never been accused of being. But CSIS got wind of it and we had not only them, but the CIA as well, coming all the way to the ass end of nowhere, Canada, to interrogate me.”

Sheppard traces the rope that coils around the anchor, letting Rodney talk at his own pace. He hasn’t talked about any of this in years, not since he had to see a therapist after the big crash. It’s strange, how he’s not uncomfortable with how he wants Sheppard to know these things about him. He’s not ready to talk about everything, but he can see a future stretching out in front of them where he does.

“Too clever for my own good, that’s what my father said. They let me off, but it wasn’t the same after. My parents put me in RCAC so I wouldn’t get up to more trouble. I attended college early, did a degree in physics while I was still in high school… then there was the car crash. My mother survived, but couldn’t work. My sister wasn’t even a sophomore yet. The air force were more than happy to take good care of them.”

“That must of been hard on you. It’s a lot of responsibility, especially so young.”

“I was eighteen,” Rodney dismisses, feeling rather than seeing Sheppard’s frown. He’s glad he didn’t say _I_ _’m sorry_ or _how awful_.

“When I was young, I wanted to fly. But I also loved math. Astrophysics made sense in a way nothing else did." John bites his lip as if he's just told him a secret, but Rodney knows how he looks at the stars, neck craned when he rides shotgun beside Rodney in the Jumper.

“You ever wanted to be an astronaut?” Even Jeannie had wanted to be an astronaut at one point. Maddie would be at that age, soon, too. Or maybe that was just Rodney not understanding how you could look up at the stars with anything but wonder.

“That was never the plan for me.” Sheppard’s voice turns closed off, shuttered and bunkered up for a long winter. “And when I realised that it didn’t matter it was too late anyway.”

Sheppard sighs. “But I like what do. I wouldn’t trade where I am for anything.”

“Your gene therapy took, right?”

“Yes.” Rodney can hear him rolling his eyes. “You can teach me to be Wedge Antilles.”

Secretly, Rodney preens.

He feels another poke. Maybe not so secretly.

Then there's more warm weight against him, Sheppard shifting and Rodney helping him move around until they're awkwardly chest to chest. Without thinking, Rodney pulls him up so they're properly heart to heart. _More comfortable this way_ , Rodney thinks, and of course it has nothing to do with how Sheppard is now practically in his lap.

Rodney opens his mouth, something embarrassing and personal and probably rude on the tip of his tongue when a hand grab the side of his head, finger splint digging into his neck. Sheppard's thumb is rough under his ear and he’s being tugged into a kiss, clumsy and chaste.

It happens faster than Rodney can keep up with. Sheppard’s other hand slips under his shirt, slightly cool, but not unpleasantly so. There’s tongue, wetness and warmth, a sensation that is familiar but also entirely unfamiliar. The slight scratch of nails against his side—the possessive way Sheppard follows his movements as he kisses back, pulling a moan from him.

Then Sheppard groans, freezing up.

“It’s just me,” Rodney soothes. “I’m here.”

Ducking his head, Sheppard pulls away. He’s smiling. “I know.”

After a few shallow breaths, Sheppard pecks him on the lips again.

Rodney follows the curve of one of Sheppard’s ears with his forefinger and thumb. “How did you know?”

“It became kind of obvious,” Sheppard says, blushing a little.

“What?”

“Well, you kind of hang around the labs a lot…”

“I like science!” Rodney is slightly offended, but at the same time he’s unable to resist curling his hands around Sheppard’s hips.

“I caught you checking Zelenka out once.”

“I—I absolutely did not!”

Sheppard shrugs, non-committal, but his smirk disputes the casualness of his gesture.

“And how does that mean I like you?”

“It meant I had a real chance,” Sheppard admits, stealing a kiss, and then another. “I’ve wanted a piece of you since I first saw you.”

Rodney will never forget their first meeting.

He’d been hauled to Antarctica, the combination of pilot, Canadian, and secret forces training slash clearance apparently rare enough that they were considering bringing in a washed out and dishonoured has been for a top secret mission. When Rodney had learnt about wormholes and spaceships he would have personally fought anyone who was going to stand between him and the opportunity he didn’t deserve.

As it was, joining the expedition had been the first thing in a long time he hadn’t had to fight for. Elizabeth had taken a shine to him, and that was that. All he had had left to do was wander the base for two days before they were finally going. He’d already written a very long letter to Jeannie and repacked his bag seven times. There were really only so many ways he could rearrange his clothes.

He’d been poking around the base, when he found what everyone must have been referring to as _the chair_. How it was meant to be a weapon he didn’t quite understand. He knew he didn’t have the ATA gene (not that it mattered at this point, he already the job), but someone caught him in his sentimentality.

“Not everyone has it, don’t worry.” A slightly reedy voice informed him.

“But you do?” Rodney had answered, amused and annoyed.

“Oh yeah.” And then he had sat down and shown Rodney the stars that until the day before, he never thought he’d reach. That neither of them had thought they’d reach.

Sheppard had smiled at him then much as he is smiling at him now. Rodney hadn’t stood a chance.

“I’m all yours,” Rodney smiles, content to let Sheppard touch him as he pleases.

They go slow. Sheppard doesn’t have a very large range of movement, but Rodney comfortably settles his hands on Sheppard’s ass and does the work for them, grinding lazily as he mouths at Sheppard’s neck.

The tight fit of his BDUs gets tighter as he gently thrusts against Sheppard’s firm thigh. It’s been years since he’s had sex facing his partner. He watches how Sheppard’s eyelashes flutter, the way his lips fall open around quiet pants. Sheppard against him is like a full body caress.

“Rodney,” Sheppard groans, expressing a range of emotion Rodney isn’t sure what to do with.

The loose fabric of Shepard’s joggers moves with him, layers and pressure and _oh_ the feeling of Sheppard hot and heavy against his hip. 

They keep going like that for a while, unhurried. Sheppard's eyes glaze and his breaths come out in pants. Rodney traces the space between his ass cheeks through the soft cotton, feeling him shiver and squirm. It makes his cock throb, to know he’s having this effect on Sheppard.

Rodney licks up his throat, up and over his Adam’s apple to where his stubble starts, prickly and rough against his tongue and then his cheek. Sheppard gets his mouth on Rodney’s ear and he almost comes.

“Urrrgh,” he moans, feeling the bittersweet discomfort of breaking a sweat. “How are you real?”

Through the haze of lust he makes sure not to jostle Sheppard too much as he brings a hand between them, getting under his joggers but not his boxers.

He barely has his hand around Sheppard, thumbing at his head, before he feels him come, warm and damp through the fabric. The feeling is unfairly erotic, especially when combined with the warmth of Sheppard’s breath against his ear and the quiet way he whines until Rodney withdraws from his suddenly over sensitive cock.

Then Sheppard’s kissing him again, and it isn’t long until Rodney falls over the edge, brain hazy with how the tension in his body turns to liquid warmth. His heart slows as the feeling dissipates, but he’s happy and satisfied in a way he isn’t sure he’s felt before, but wants to feel again.

“Next time I’m getting my hands on _your_ ass,” Sheppard says, breaking through how muggy the world has temporarily become.

“Oh?” Rodney hums, just about coherent again. He gives Sheppard’s ass a teasing squeeze just because he can.

Sheppard squeezes at the nearest parts of Rodney he can reach in retaliation, soothing into a caress, promising, “As soon as I’m more healed up.” Then Sheppard’s lips meet his again, sweet and slow.

They kiss for a while longer, unhurried and content, until Sheppard tires and Rodney starts to fidget because his leg is falling asleep.

“2001?”

“Pain medication won’t suddenly make me change my mind about it,” Sheppard pouts.

Rodney settles back against the pillows, arms wide and welcoming. “We can cuddle.”

Sheppard scoots closer, then pulls a face at his crotch. Rodney gets up, a hand on Sheppard's arm asking him to stay put. He cleans himself up quickly in the bathroom and brings a warm flannel to Sheppard, who smiles at him appreciatively and kisses the top of his head. Once they’re both sorted, he takes his own boots off before settling back onto the bed again.

Sheppard has his laptop ready and slumps against Rodney. As the film flickers to life on the screen, he has his arms full of a sleepy and safe Sheppard. Pressing a kiss to his temple, Rodney settles in for over two hours of cinematic beauty and Sheppard’s unique and probably aggravating commentary. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so tired all the time but I _finally_ finished this and am so happy to share it! It was a lot of fun making up the alternative backstories for John and Rodney. Hope you've enjoyed :)


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